Sleeves
by OrilliaOrange
Summary: Cassandra is less than impressed with Varric's sleeveless armour


"This wouldn't have happened if you'd worn armour that had _sleeves_, Varric." Cassandra said, giving the dwarf a stern look.

"If you hadn't pissed off that giant, I'd still have my old armour, Seeker." Varric griped, wincing as Cassandra cleaned the cuts across his side. "Complete with sleeves."

"I was not the one who drew the attention of the giant!" Cassandra growled.

Varric snorted with derision.

"Nor was it my fault you decided to fight a great bear, Varric." Cassandra said, "In sleeveless armour."

"If you weren't hell bent on ridding Thedas of bears, I wouldn't have been fighting a great bear!" Varric said, staring at the Seeker's bowed head. Her hair was plastered to her head, soaking wet like the rest of her. Like both of them, really.

The Seeker gave him an exceedingly unimpressed look, and scrubbed out the gashes in his side with more enthusiasm than strictly necessary, in Varric's opinion.

Cassandra's strong hands wrung out the cloth she'd been using to clean the wounds left by the great bear's claws, the water running rusty brown.

"Remove the rest of your shirt, Varric." the Seeker commanded.

"Usually you'd have to buy me dinner first, Seeker." Varric quipped, moving to peel the rest of the shredded fabric off.

"Ah, fuck!" Varric grimaced at the sudden burst of pain.

Sighing, Cassandra batted Varric's hands out of the way, and took hold of the sodden cloth herself.

Gripping the cloth of Varric's shirt on either side of a long tear, Cassandra ripped the fabric further, and slid it off Varric's shoulders.

A witty remark stalled on Varric's tongue. The Seeker's cold hands followed the cuts and bruises the great bear's claws had left on his side.

"I do not think anything's broken, Varric." Cassandra said, voice quiet. Against all reason, Varric could've sworn her hands lingered a little longer against his ribs than they needed to.

"I'm glad." He said, simply. Outside the small cave they'd holed up in, the storm still raged. Rain whipped the ground, obscuring everything beyond three feet from the cave's entrance.

Wherever they were, Varric hoped Sparkler and the Inquisitor had found the camp.

At his side, Cassandra was stripping out of her outer shirt, breastplate and padded jacket already discarded at their feet.

"Isn't this all a bit sudden, Seeker? I'm flattered, but spoken for." Varric said, the words sounding hollow to his own ears.

The noise of disgust from Cassandra was muffled by her shirt, stuck over her head. While she struggled, Varric was confronted with the discovery that the Seeker wore a very delicate looking chemise. Trimmed with lace, of all things. Finally, with a firm yank the trapped fabric pulled free, leaving the Seeker's hair sticking up in spikes.

"Do not be absurd, dwarf." With efficient movements, Cassandra began tearing the fabric into long strips. A pile of destroyed shirt landed in Varric's lap, as Cassandra knelt in front of him.

Leaning forward, Cassandra pressed the largest remaining piece of shirt against Varric's side. With the other hand, she looped a fabric strip around his torso.

Her breath was warm. It brushed against his collarbones, and Varric could feel it when she huffed in frustration at the makeshift bandages. Whenever she moved, the short strands of Cassandra's hair tickled his cheek. It was distracting as hell.

Varric let out a slow breath.

Cassandra leaned back to tie the bandage off, and reached for a new strip of fabric. Her hand glanced along his thigh, and when the Seeker leaned in close once more, Varric's heart thumped.

"I ever tell you about the time Hawke fought a templar in his pyjamas?" Varric asked into the silence.

Cassandra looked at him, excitement sparkling in her eyes. "No, I don't think you did." She wound another loop of fabric around Varric's ribs.

"Well, how that templar wound up in Hawke's pyjamas, I don't know." Varric said.

Cassandra's fingers lost their on the last bandage as she laughed. "Maker. Hold _still_, Varric!"

Adjusting the strip of fabric, Cassandra's fingers lingered along Varric's side for a moment. Testing to make sure the bandaging was tight enough, she told herself.

Certainly not because he was warm, despite being half naked and soaked to the skin in a cave.

"That ought to hold until we can rejoin the Inquisitor." Cassandra said, sitting back on her heels, and surveying her patient.

Maker's breath.

Feeling her cheeks flush, Cassandra averted her gaze from Varric's chest. It wasn't as though she'd never seen it before. Half of Thedas had seen Varric's chest hair. Until he'd donned that ridiculous armour, Cassandra had assumed nothing about Varric would surprise her. She'd certainly never thought the sight of Varric's bare arms and shoulders would be so _distracting_.

The dwarf had nice arms. Very nice arms, strongly muscled, and lightly dusted with ginger hair.

"Seeker?" Varric's voice broke the silence.

"Is the bandaging uncomfortable?" Cassandra asked, when Varric said nothing further.

"Not at all. Missed your calling as a healer, Seeker." Varric laughed. Cassandra was still kneeling in front of him, clad in a thin chemise. Suddenly very aware of being half naked, Varric's heart gave another heavy thunk against his ribs.

Ancestors help him.


End file.
